


The Ties That Bind Us

by rololonde



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, Invisible Mumintroll | Moomintroll, Little my is a rascal, M/M, Mutual Pining, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Theyre a bit older in this fic, if i end up contradicting myself a lot im sorry, like at all, love her, moomin does not like pine needles, probably more around moominvalley moomins age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rololonde/pseuds/rololonde
Summary: In which Moomin goes on a journey of discovery.





	The Ties That Bind Us

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve seen a lot of invisible snufkin fics but not that many invisible moomin ones so i thought i’d change that. anyways, i hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!

Brilliant yellow and vermillion leaves litter violently swaying trees, taking flight in the cold autumn wind, swiftly letting the breeze take them to wherever it saw fit. The frost-covered windows cracked and buckled, threatening to burst open at any moment. Moomintroll gazed out in despair towards the slowly setting horizon. It was a miserable day in Moominvalley and Moomin had spent the majority of it moping around on the hard wooden floor. The closer it came to winter, the shorter the days seemed to feel. His days with Snufkin were depleting and before he knew it, he would be gone from Moomin’s life for three interminable months. Enduring yet another long and lonesome winter of sleeplessness, his very own solitary winter insomnia. Each year he found himself to be the first to wake up. Usually months in advance to when he was supposed to, a peculiar, now recurring and unfortunate habit. During these months alone, he had more time to himself and was usually left to his thoughts, lacking the activities he would usually put himself to when bored. He now realised everything he’d ever really thought to do would ordinarily also involve his friends. Without them, it could never be the same and while his fur was gradually growing thicker for the winter, he still wasn't used to the cold it brought him.

With a jar of plum jam in one paw and his head in the other, he’d found himself thinking back to Snufkin and his journeys. How had he survived the long winter months? He must get awfully lonely out there, all by himself, mustn't he? The mumrik was always so incredibly different from Moomin. They were complete opposites. He understood him like no one else but their personalities collided like comets intersecting through conflicting courses, an explosion of colours dancing across the sky until they finally fizzled out. The less he understood him the more he found himself wanting to learn. Snufkin intrigued him. He enjoyed every moment he spent with him and dreaded moments he didn’t. Moomin wasn’t an overly dependent person, but when Snufkin left, there was a feeling of ache that spun his chest into ways that he couldn’t describe.

An ache to see him again.

Even for just a moment longer. He could spend forever listening to him playing his mouth-organ in comfortable silence. Nothing but the two of them, a warm breeze on his fur and the firm bark of a willow tree against his back. He would thread flowers he found beside them into elaborate crowns and don them upon their heads like faux royalty. Blue cornflowers and meadowsweet accentuating Snufkin's fiery untamable mane. His eyes would linger there for a brief moment. Would he allow him to push away those stray auburn tufts? Withdraw the wall that always seemed to come between them?  

Moomins eyes travelled to the white shrouded furniture surrounding him. The fast-approaching winter meant that preparations for hibernation were underway. Soon he would have to shovel those wretched prickly pine needles down his throat according to some dotish family tradition. Placing the jar down beside him, he got up and inspected the rest of the room. The once bright and vibrant room was now completely covered in white cloth, protecting it from the dust and dirt that would collect while the moomins slumbered. He didn’t quite understand why they still continued the tradition. After all, Moomin seemed to adapt to the cold during the many winters he woke up just fine. There was no reason for it other than tradition he supposed. An awfully silly tradition. He did miss how time seemed to skip forward, though. All this time to himself makes it hard to distract his desire to be with... He guessed that this was the world's way of telling him to become more independent. But he was! He did a lot of things by himself. He was certain of it. Like… Well, he…

There were lots of things he did, he just couldn’t think of them at the moment because there were just so many things he couldn’t keep count. Yes, that was it. The independent Moomin, that’s what they’d call him. Just like his papa.

Who was he kidding? He’d spent the majority of his life in Moominvalley, hardly leaving without Moominmama or Snufkin by his side. You could hardly call that independent. How could he call himself an adult moomin when he’d never even left home by himself? He placed his hands down on the table, spreading out the wrinkles and folds that formed, slightly tugging at a small teapot placed delicately in the centre. Perhaps, if he really wanted to be independent, he’d have to follow in Snufkin and his father’s footsteps. Make his own future… He was always one for adventure. Maybe he could-

A blazing burst of red hair popped out the top of the teapot, knocking the lid straight towards the wide-eyed Moomin, coming down in a clatter. ~~A small yelp escaped from Moomin’s mouth and he abruptly retracted his arms from the cloth in surprise.~~ An incredibly dignified and not-at-all-nervous-and-quite-very-manly sound escaped Moomin’s mouth.

Little My stared up at him and burst into laughter.

“Your face looks like a shrivelled up fat ugly prune”

She always managed to spit out her words in such a manner of fact way. It annoyed Moomin to no end.

“Oh, it’s just you, My.” Moomin rolled his eyes and relaxed his spine. “What were you doing in there?”

She pouted. “I was trying to sleep, although ‘somebody’ started stomping around the room like an elephant!”

“Well ‘somebody’ shouldn’t sleep in teapots.”

Little My blew a raspberry in Moomins direction, signifying that she would most definitely not be following his advice.    

“Never mind that,” She pulled herself out of the pot and dusted herself off. “What were you doing?”

“I was just...” Just what? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t make him seem like a complete fool? I was just lying on the floor all day? If she didn’t already think of him as utterly pathetic, she surely would now.

“You’re not sulking around because of Snufkin are you? He left this morning you know.” She eyed her nails disinterestedly.

“He- He what? How do you know?” _How did I not know?_ The thought was but a whisper in the back of his head, but it echoed relentlessly like a broken record.

Little My crossed her arms in amusement. “You’re terribly ignorant, you know that?”

“I just, I don't see how he could have left without saying goodbye...” Moomin looked down dejectedly and picked at the fur on his arm. _Was he that eager to leave?_

“When has he ever said goodbye?”

“Oh well… I don’t know, It just seems awfully early for him to leave don’t you think?”

“Maybe you irritated him with your endless queries?” Little My scoffed and slipped down the leg of the table using it like a fireman’s pole.

She began to make her way to the kitchen when a white crumpled up piece of paper fell from the skirt of her dress. Noticing the crumpled ball, she hurriedly snatched it up and threw her hands behind her back in succession.

“What are you holding in your hand?” Moomin squinted, edging further towards Little My.

“Nothing that you need to know about” Her pace hastened but before she could escape, Moomin nabbed the paper straight from her tiny hands and flattened it out to get a better look.

 

_Cheerio,_

_Sleep well, my dearest Moomintroll. May your-_

 

His reading was abruptly cut off by an incredibly small and troublesome little mymble swiping the letter out of his paws and sprinting in the other direction.

“Little My! Give it back, that’s my letter!” He waved his hands in front of him unsuccessfully attempting to grab it back from her.

“Hmm I don't know, it looks like a pretty swell fire starter” she teased, grinning mischievously. For a small creature, she was undoubtedly fast, but in regards to height, Moomintroll had a clear advantage.

Moomin grasped the neck of her dress, held her out and took back the letter, arm stretched out as to not let her climb all over him.

“Ow! Hey! Let me go!” her limbs flailed about wildly, kicking and scratching anything she could reach.

“You mustn't take things Little My. This letter was meant for me, and me alone”

“Oh hush, I was going to give it back…eventually” Her body slowly became limp, seemingly tired from the frantic squirming, now resorting to a more relaxed form.

“Eventually? It was screwed up into a tiny ball!”

“The blasted thing wouldn’t fit in my pocket!”

He loosened his grip and sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible”

A set of teeth came chomping down onto Moomin’s wrist and pain shot up his arm like wildfire. He instantly released Little My, howling in pain.

“That’s what you get for letting your guard down!” She sneered mockingly and disappeared into a small crevice in the wall.

“You malignant shrew! Get back here!” He once again bound towards her but it was too late. She was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Finally alone in his room, he decided to take another look at his letter from Snufkin.

 

_Cheerio,_

_Sleep well, my dearest Moomintroll. May your dreams be pleasant and filled with only the most beautiful things. Dry those eyes and keep that head up, for on the first day of spring I shall be back again._

_Snufkin._

 

The letter was short (as it usually was) but Moomin hung on to each and every word, taking it in like a warm summer breeze. When the loneliness in the winter became too much for him, he would often repeat the letter back to himself, as if it were Snufkin speaking to him, and just for a moment, all his woes would cease. Disappearing from existence.

Of the many things he missed about Snufkin, his soothing presence was something he missed most. When he was with him, he felt like he could conquer anything and any worry he had on his mind would automatically be fixed.  

Moomin sat at the edge of his bed and replaced the letter in his paws with a worn picture frame from his side table.

A young Moomintroll stared back at him with curious eyes. Next to him sat his mama and papa, gazing at his younger self lovingly. He hadn't changed. Aside from the obvious size difference, he was still just a child. A small helpless child, who couldn’t even fend for himself even if his life depended on it. Moping off the dust with the back of his paw, he placed the frame back to its original position and raised from his spot on the soft mattress, leaving a deep impression on the quilted cotton sheets. He didn’t want to be that small child. Not anymore. Moomin held up his head and made his way into the empty hallway.

Not anymore.


End file.
